


The Perfect City

by Graymalkin



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Desperation, Gen, Omorashi, Pee, Wetting, female desperation, female urination, peeing in odd places
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:32:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Graymalkin/pseuds/Graymalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ordinary woman tries to go about her day as usual even though the city is strangely different today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect City

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote some drabbles for omorashi bloggers on Tumblr. I revised and expanded them before posting them here, but they're still very brief and to-the-point compared to my usual stories. This one was for Omorashivevo.

Again last night. It always starts like a normal day.

It's wrong outside. The sky is too blue. The streets are too smooth. The lawns are like golf course greens. The trees are tiny toys blown up to grotesque proportions.

I'm confused when I try to go to work. It can't be my neighborhood, but it has to be. I drive around in a daze until I'm lost. I stop at a convenience store where a man gives me directions to my own office building. He looks old but has no wrinkles. He acts nice until I ask for the loo key.  
"I dont cater to detestable practices!" he shouts.

Everything around town is actually where it should be. I tune out the wrong details as I drive. I tell myself it's all in my head. The wrongness will go away when I'm fully awake and at my desk. But I'm still nervous, and I still need the loo.

At the office I make a beeline for the ladies'. It's so clean and white it's blinding. The girls fixing their faces are like dolls. One of them laughs at me when I scan the stalls. Each one is empty. Now I know something's wrong. I notice next that the toilets are all dry and dusty. 

"Nobody uses those things" says the girl who laughed. "They came with the building. They were for something too disgusting to allow."

I try to ask her. Explain myself. I can't find the words. There are mirrors all over so I know how red and flustered I look. I have to leave. My uneasiness escalated to horror. My need for a toilet is more severe than before. It seems I'm wrong to have it.

My workplace and everything around it is different today, but it looks like I'm the part that's wrong. I think I can solve this problem with careful thought, but I can't think straight with a full tank. I wander the halls frantically.

I see a supply closet. Its my only choice, but it seems so wrong. Inside is a mirror. I'm an odd sight perched atop a bucket in a navy blue and white business suit with my skirt around my ankles. I look a fright. There's dirt on my heels, dust and lint on my suit, my hair and makeup are wrecked, there's so many spots where my skin's not right, the flesh of my waist is creased, my thighs are misshapen, and that tuft of fuzz between them looks so obnoxious. All my flaws come out in that mirror. 

I try to ignore the wrongness of it all and just do what I need to do. I shoot a fierce jet that feels so good I can't diminish it for anything. The bucket and closet are an echo chamber inside an echo chamber. I blush at the noise.

Most nights it ends with a knock on the door. 

A man's voice says, "You're under arrest for urination." I feel terrible. Guilt. Fear. 

This time it goes longer. I see the man who knocked.

He wears the grimmest, sternest uniform imaginable. His clothes, hair, and skin are as flawless as everything in the town. Moreso. He's so flawless he doesn't even have a face. His hand is like a vice as he escorts me away. I hear I'll be taken to the "modification center."

I'm always thrilled to find the eerie town isn't real. I'm safe in my warm bed. Too warm. The guilt returns.


End file.
